


Ivar's [SSS]

by xHonestSecretsx



Series: Sy's Sinful Saturdays [Vikings] [6]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-06 15:45:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 4,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16835650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xHonestSecretsx/pseuds/xHonestSecretsx
Summary: Pegging





	1. Chapter 1

It wasn’t that he liked to share. As a free woman you had choices. You could choose to be his. You could choose to be Hvitserk’s who at the moment watched while eating his nuts on a tree. Sigurd’s hips snapping against yours filtered out the soft cries that came off of your lips.

But they weren’t the only ones watching or lurking. There was another listening to your gentle sobs drowned out by Sigurd’s kisses as he shifted above you, the muscles of his back tensing as he emptied his opaque seed within your waiting walls.

The sight of his eyes within the brush shocked you into a scream, grasping Sigurd’s broad shoulders. Hvitserk’s hand lurches to his belt as Sigurd snaps his hand to his axe, his orgasm ruined. 

“What are you doing Ivar?” Hvitserk breaks the tension as Ivar shoves himself forward on his palms.

“You were both enjoying her.” Ivar pushes forward, crawling closer and quicker like a quick lizard through the grass. “I want to too.”


	2. Come Closer

He likes to hold himself above you. For silly reasons– but making himself feel bigger is the largest of them. Your hips slide against his, winding him tight within your body.

“Come here.” Your hands skate across the firm muscles of his back.

“Why should I?” He slides himself to a hilt, enjoying the rush of pleasure that slaps over your face with two firm slaps of his hips.

“Because I’ll make you or go!” You warn, scratching your nails into his skin as if to pull him down. He looks to you– half amused. You hardly could, lacking the immense strength Ivar had from years of dragging himself in dirt, mud, sand and grass. Ivar instead drops down to his forearms, allowing himself to pull out, nearly to the tip– before slamming back in over and over. The wet squelch of your pussy being rammed by his cock was the only noise in the room.

“You think you can make me?” He whispers deep into your ear. “You’re not going anywhere.”


	3. He Found Out

“Didn’t I tell you?” His face was slack against your cheek, hair sloppily waving around your face. He fills you with every deep thrust that snatches air out of your lungs. It was deep, it was harsh and most of all, it was possessive.

He caught you.

His fist mashes into your hair, pulling it back when you choke out a gasp. Hvitserk was gone and now all you were left with him. His lips are harsh against your ear, expecting that you’ll respond.

“You always find out, Ivar.” You twist against the bruising ropes-- and Ivar shoves you down into the bed. His dick fills you to the base in amusement as you cry out for him to be more gentle.

“That’s right.” His full lips pull into a slight, pained smirk. “I always do.”


	4. Total Control

Total control.

Total trust.

His hand around your throat was like a second collar, the one below artificial, but the one above that his. It collared you to him-- pure, unfiltered trust that burned through the lust between your legs. A new feeling as of days, no trust words but trust that he knew.

His hand tenses around your throat and you gasp slightly, rolling your head off to the side so that you could look at him. You say nothing, fluttering long lashes up at him.

A small, grunt precedes a teasing chuckle. “You’re ready for it.” He pulls you outwards towards your shared bed, his crutch clipping with every little step. It was bound to be a long, long night.


	5. Liar

You knew that he lied when he said he could be patient.

When he said that he would most definitely love children, you knew that he meant that in a present sense. As in-- now, preferably. With all his brothers having sons and daughters, he wanted them too.

He had you on the edge of the couch, steadying his body with his hands to the back of your knees. He puffs out sharp, rippling groans as he shoves himself deep, the bridge of his nose tight with wrinkles that tells you that no, he won’t pull out.

“Ivar!”

His cum was seeping out of your hole with the full thrusts of his hips coming to still and ofcourse-- that shit eating grin told you all you needed to know of him. You almost smile when he looks to you.

“Oops.”


	6. Stress Relief

When his temper is poor, everything is poor.

The work place could be having the most wonderful day-- but again, when Ivar the Heartless wasn’t happy... no one would be happy. Before the new hire came around, it was constant fighting. But now...

Sigurd noticed the change.

A ripple of buttons breaks the shirt altogether. Peeping in slowly, he saw the sight of his brother’s hand tearing your bra apart. Your long, silken legs stroking up his slacks while keeping him in place against his desk. The papers were strewn everywhere and yet-- Ivar didn’t care. His lips curved around her breast, massaging one before another with harsh bruising tugs.

“Mr. Ragnarsson-- I didn’t bring a spare.”

His brother unlatches your legs, steadying himself with one hand above you. Then he shoves you face down against the desk.

“Who said you needed one?”

He hired a cockwarmer.


	7. Please Shut Up

Most of the time Ivar talked way too much. The only thing that really shut him up were your hips, grinding down against his face with whirling hips. Your hips sank down, undulating against his lips over and over again.

“Someone has to teach you to shut up.” You moan, your hands beginning to feel more like jello as his tongue dug against your folds. “Since Aslaug never did.”

He muffles something against your lips, causing vibrations to shoot through your already sensitive lips. But fuck him-- fuck him. You weren’t going to cum until his jaw was sore, tongue as tired and that look-- gone. To show him how he would not talk to you. Your head drops down, long hair falling around in curtain to show one thing.

The defiance in his electric eyes.

Go ahead and try.


	8. Mommie!

He knew he was your special boy. He may have talked a big talk, but in the end, he was yours. He was his mommy’s precious little boy.

“Come here Ivar, touch mommie’s tits.” You keen, sliding your arms back around his thick neck. He knew how much you enjoyed his broad body. It was part of the allure in foreplay.

“Good boy.” You moan, rubbing your wet slit back against his shaft that eagerly awaits its treat. “Mommie wants your big dick, Ivar. Do you think you can do that?”

Shifting behind you once more, Ivar led his tip to your sweet, tight walls. He pushes forward, breaching past tight rings of muscle.

“It’s good, mommie.” He husks lowly, his nose against your cheek. His large arm comes around again, rolling your nipple between his fingers. With one sole roll of your hips, you take him.

“My sweet boy.”


	9. Tight

Once upon a time, you used to be Hvitserk’s girl. Once upon a time was hours ago-- because Ivar’s cruel punishment in the Great Hall left your hands bound and tied behind your back. The King’s huge hands spread your cheeks, streams of your dress pushed away from your ass.

“She’s soaked for me, Hvitserk! Your woman is soaked!” Ivar’s chortle was rich and thick. Somehow, you’re unable to deny it when you look back up to Hvitserk’s naked frame that has been forced to watch. Your pussy clenches around Ivar in desire for him to watch your new King’s cock sweeping in and out of your tight channel that led to your womb.

“Do you think I can impregnate her, Hvitserk? Hm?” Ivar spread your ass, letting his brother see the slick running down the pulsing shaft. He dove deep, knocking at the door of your womb. “She can give me a true heir. That is how you’ll make up for this.”

By the squeeze wrapping around him, he had to say: you would be gladdened to do so.


	10. Don't Even Have To

It’s not good enough for him unless you’re shaking.

The toy is considered an expensive piece. Ivar can’t put a place tag on his woman’s pleasure. He enjoys coming home, rushing you down the unfinished steps to the basement where his real arena is. A space where the rumoured toy was anchored to the floor. Shackles attach to your waist, ankles and wrists to keep you in place.

Then the real fun begins. It starts with huffy moans, the attempt to hold back any pleasure that courses through your veins. But very soon, with the vibrations wracking through your body, the moans become unrestrained shouts. The vibrations rattling against your cunt draw sopping wet fluids over its black surface. But it was only the start.

“What’s the matter baby?” Ivar sits in his leather chair, molding his large hand over his swollen member. “You look like you’re going to pop.”

By the vibrations weakening your muscles, he knew you were. He stands up by the aid of his crutch, approaching you while unzipping his pants. You were finally ready, parting bite mark stained lips for his cock.

He swore he could feel the vibrations even in your mouth.


	11. Positioning

He hadn’t believed you when you told him-- it’s all about the right positioning! He had blown it off, thinking you were as crazy as your mother. His crazy stepsister who knew nothing of what she was talking about.

Somehow you did.

Somehow he was deep inside your clenching, wet walls. He was here, throwing his head back and moaning like a whore at the tightness wrapped around his dick. His hands held you like a doll, pulling you up and down his cock with purpose. He could finally fuck-- and it felt amazing.

“Fuck (Y/N)!” Ivar howls. “Fuck! Fuckfuckfuck!”


	12. Trust Me

It was always a hot sting.

“Is that one really bigger than the last?” His queen says. You were the sort of woman to let him do as he pleased. Drawing his knife against your back, blood popped forth in bubbles one way, then another as he forms the all too infamous ‘V’ of his name.

“Obviously it wasn’t deep enough last time.” Ivar hisses, letting his blade deepen enough to leave a mark that would stain your naked back. “If they peeped on you.”

You didn’t even know who they were talking about. Only that Ivar’s blade dug deep and your wrists were so tightly bound you could feel the delicious sting of hypoxia. Your hips rock on their own back against Ivar as he hovers over you.

“Why are you so jealous?” You tease openly.

“Because!” He snarls through the chamber. “You’re mine!”


	13. Submission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pegging

Ivar was like his father.

They had too much power. It was intoxicating, of course, but Ivar had a big head about him. You’d easily fix that. He gave you total control to fix that for one night only.

“Hnnnngh!” Ivar’s deep growls were reverberating up his chest, spilling out of his lips with the stubbornness not to relent and give in. But the feeling-- strange. The mechanic feeling of something foreign and fake breaching tight rings of muscle through him into harsh pants.

“Oh you’re taking it so well!” You tease behind him, gliding the cherry coloured phallus into his ass and out with a strange tickle that he could only describe as feeling full. His tight muscles clench down on the strap on as he bites back cusses at you.

“When I get the fuck out of this.” Ivar yanks at the bindings holding his wrist tight. Your hips glide to force him to take the whole thing in its entirety. “I’ll fuck you in the ass next, bitch.”

He had to get out first, of course.


	14. Stupid Thrall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Humiliation

Some thralls were just stupid.

He often wondered if they were like Ubbe and Sigurd seemed to say, human too. There were different types. Some did hard labour, others like her enjoyed warming a bed in addition to work. She was a special sort. The stupid sort that only warmed his bed.

Bending before her, holding onto his deformed legs while he held his crutch, cock kissing the warm air. Yet her eyes were forever on him as if she was gladdened for the attention! How could she look so-- pleased to be here? His hand stroked over her chin, annoyed with the look on her face he beat his palm across her face. She flinches only momentarily, coming back to lap at his palm obediently.

Wanting more of his touch and abuse.

“Stupid thrall.”


	15. Rut Gift

Buying the woman as a rut gift was a good idea for Ubbe. His little brother needed something to rut out all of those frustrations. But... in a way, he knew the poor thing wasn’t about to escape Ivar’s private room with Ivar’s arms hooking below her legs, choking the breath out of her lungs with his hands forming a collar around her throat.

Gurgled gasps escaped out of her tongue with every thrust inside of that tight womb. His shaft was repeatedly disappearing within her pussy, over and over again until Ivar stuttered his hips forward. Rocking growls fill the room and Ubbe knows-- his little brother came.

But that wasn’t going to stop him. Minutes later-- he was at it again.


	16. Um, Please?

They had been around this before.

Trying and failing-- and failing and failing to touch one another. Ivar knew that you were shy. In fact, he fully expected it because he was too. After long swims, he always turned around while you took off that cute ocean blue bikini, or when you went drinking, you were more modest.

So today was another date at the movies, your head lightly on his shoulder for a sweet, affectionate cuddle under the blanket you shared in the ‘handicap’ section. Not because he was-- but because the seats were so much comfortable. It was fine, cuddling with his girl-- until he felt your cool fingers wandering against his belt.

“What..” Ivar glances down to your shaking hand struggling against the belt. “(Y/N), you don’t...”

Ivar looks away, head gently inclined while your other hand came to your lips. Manicured fingers are chewed on when you clear your throat gently. You manage to slide out his strap.

“Please Ivar...” You plead gently, pulling the belt and releasing the metal pick that anchors it in its hole. Oh god-- you’re begging. You’re begging for him. His cock rises uncomfortably, a feeling he is squeamish about. Surely you don’t want to see that.

“You don’t have to.” He says evenly, despite his head looking shamefully away at his own arousal.

“Please let me?” You say. As soon as he nods, you slip underneath the blanket, drawing his cock out into the warm air-- and even warmer lips. His hand caresses your strands as you take him into your mouth. How could he not enjoy the movie now?


	17. First Drink

“Come taste it papi.”

Ivar held his arm around you as you sat on the couch beside him in a sultry, lacy little piece of lingerie that as doing nothing to calm his burning curiosity. Past the faux white roses, the buds of your nipples were peeking through, pert and hard.

“What does it taste like?” Ivar asks, eyes burning at your breast.

“You have to taste it to know.” You exclaim. Against his better judgement, Ivar throws you a look of annoyance and leans in, drawing the ruffled edge of your thin lingerie don from the areola. His lips purse against the nipple, drawing his mouth to milk the nipple.

The first spurt has him glancing up at you with impatient blue eyes. But a few suckles later, more milk pours into his mouth, feeding grown Ivar while your other breast leaks without stimulation.

“What does it taste like?” You ask as Ivar comes up for air, switching to your other breast.

"Sweet... like you."


	18. Clinging

Skinny dipping was overrated.

Ivar loved when you jumped in the water in front of him, swashing and enjoying your day despite his insistence to stay on shore. He didn’t want to ruin your fun-- and he didn’t want you to stop either.

“(Y/N)! Come eat with me!” He calls.

Out of the water you swash, water churning away from your luscious hips and legs weighed down with water gathering around your waist. You giggle and laugh as you hike up your skirts, daring to show him your long calves. Finally you bubble up to him, and Ivar leans forward with a small bob to his head.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Your hand comes to your lips as he motions his finger in one flicking circle. You turn obediently and Ivar scoots forward.

“You know why.” He leans his hands forward, pushing your cheeks together with his hands soaked under the diaphanous fabric that draped off your ass. He squeezes more than purposefully.

“Ivar!“

He still wasn’t sorry.


	19. His Favourite

honestsycrets  
Ivar || His Favourite [SSS]

She was little more than a bed slave, but fuck, he loved her.

He loved the way her body fell to a quivering mess under his arms. The way that when he poured hot oil over her skin, she gasped. The way that when he marked her with his war pick, she moaned. She was the perfect bedslave.

“You know what I’m going to do next, (Y/N)?” Ivar husks lowly, affectionately sliding his thumb over the angle of her jaw. She took him in her ass like a true queen-- and now his fingers at her clit threw her into overdrive, legs shaking more than the priests he flayed open. Every one of her holes was his-- and his alone.

“What, my sweet king?” She rasps, despite being so unable to speak. Ivar cleans his cock before jerking himself back to hardness.

“I need to own you in the last way. To watch you grow by my seed.” He looks to globs of his wasted cum spilling out of her ass. “Are you going to fight me?”

She stares as he guides his tip back into her clenching hole, stretching to accommodate his size. “Never my king.” She moans. “Please... give me your seed.”


	20. One for the Gods, One for Me

She wasn’t at all afraid.

Maybe that’s what made this alluring. After slicing the throat of one shieldmaidens, one of many offerings to be made to Odin, he came to find the next. The thralls brought him a wooden bowl, oozing with the thick blood of eight different beings. Frothing with power and energy.

The next bent before him. He took his war pick, cutting down the neck of her thin dress. Her strong eyes took him in, staring blankly even as he brought the blood atop of her head. Warmly it oozed down her hair, dampening the strands with a blackish-red sheen as it poured over her perfect tits, down her stomach and over her mound. Her sweet cunt sat like a little prize, tucked away to never be used. Her eyes pop from the curtain of blood, staring with a sultry smile.

Ivar massages himself through his trousers, running his tongue over his canines. “It seems like you won’t be sacrificed today, fiesty one. The gods will have to wait for you.” The King says, smearing his thumb over her nipple to spread the blood while his other hand guides her to sit upon him. Then he barks out:

“Who else would like to go to Odin!”


	21. A Little Privacy

The best new present was the car.

Not only because it was configured so he could drive it without immense pain, but it was yet another amazing car to do what he really wanted to do in it. Get laid at lunch in peace without stupid monitors thinking they had to control what his eighteen year old ass was doing.

His head fell back against the cushion as she fisted his cock, jerking him into her slurping mouth. Ivar slid her jean skirt off of her round ass, drawing his fingers between her lips. His fingers glide over her slit, slickening with every moment he stroked her.

Clack, clack, clack!

Her eyes glance up to him, suckling up to his tip again. He groans, turning his head to Hvitserk’s cheesy little grin. He rolls the window down, pushing his index and middle finger in.

“What is it, Hvitserk?” He asks. His older brother sets one arm on the top of the car, licking his lips when Ivar’s girl pushed Ivar’s dick deep in her warm little mouth. Ivar buckles over with a groan.

Hvitserk glances back to the high fence of the football field, strokes his stubble and clears his throat. “Can I watch?”


	22. Ivar + Kitta + Reader || What a Queen Wants

Kitta hated sharing.

She hated sharing with a passion-- but even she could admit it when she saw a beautiful woman. Skinny women, plump confident women; it was all the same to her. Knowing that Ivar had teased her with your delicate body made it all the more better. It was a game.

“Ah... ahhh mmm Kitta.” Your voice was desperate, raking your hand through her blonde strands as Ivar’s dick pushed deep. He held your legs spread wide open, back against his chest and cheek lulling against his. Kitta works her tongue flickering against your clit-- causing you to in turn tighten around her shared husband.

A Queen always got what she wanted.

And she wanted you.


	23. Curve

School girls were great.

They spent their time partying the evenings away-- never once remembering that Mr. Ragnarsson had a test Monday. So, in that way, you were nothing new to him. You came into his room early, begging after getting a low sixty-seven on your test for something-- anything!

He of course minded the fact that you were wearing something less than proper-- a tiny skirt and long, snowy socks in high heels. He didn’t really care, in fact. All he cared about was stuffing his cock into something. In this case, your round ass.

“No hands (Y/N).” Your professor says, watching as you took him deep in your tight little ass, hands flailing almost cutely to stay up. It’s cute when you struggle, even cuter when you cry out. The mixture of your pain, and pleasure, drew Ivar to hiss.

“Good girl. You get your three extra credit points.” He cackles, letting his head drop back. You would have to do a fuck of a lot more extra credit to get that D up to an A.


	24. Free Use

Ubbe had some serious reservations about the way Ivar used his women. He was working on his father’s stacked black books, scribbling one way before another when Ubbe came in with Hvitserk. His cheery brother was far too bubbly to come in, jumping about like it was a game.

“Why do you have her tied to the desk like that?” Ubbe looks down to the girl, rolling hips against a vibrating toy. If he can hear it, he knows that Ivar can hear it. If Ivar can hear it-- Hvitserk can. Oh and Hvitserk is using that to the worst of his knowledge too, crawling closer to her to flick his nail against her nipple. Her back arches out toward him, eager for any stimulation she can get. Ubbe swats his Hvitserk in the shoulder to make him stop.

“She likes it.” Ivar says, looking up from his black books. “She likes being used like the pleasure slut she is. She even likes to be shared by anyone who walks in” He leans over the table on his elbows.

“Isn’t that right (Y/N)?” Ivar asks, reaching over to stroke his hand on her throat.

“Yes master.” She agrees, rolling her torso about the newest of toys that leaves her body far too over stimulated, wracked with pleasure. The rug stains below her ass.

“See?” Ivar reclines back into his seat. “So go play, Hvitserk.”

He was far too happy.


End file.
